Every time I have gone home from America, amma has been at the gate, anxiously waiting to hug me and hold me in her arms. Her hug was the ultimate refuge for me. I was totally safe there. I would be a carefree child again. In those few moments, I was completely reduced to a state of elemental being which I cannot describe. I _should_ not describe. No matter how high and mighty I thought I had become in my life, there was no room for all that in her arms. Only room for _me_.

Not this time.

I did not know if I was going home. I didn't know if I had a home any more. How could I possibly see that divan on which she used to sit and gossip with me, ask me about life in America, "whatever happened to your friend so-and-so?" ... We would laugh almost all the time, as we shared the many hilarious things we had seen or gotten into. We would recall old stories of our own foibles and those of others and laugh even more. I would get into these water fights with my niece and nephew and they would start yelling and there would be pandemonium, "pAAATTTTIIIIIII!! Look at your rAkshasa son! Ask him to lay off!!" She would get up with some difficulty, and reaching up to my height, bop me on the head and ask me to cheese it or else. Oh, yes, these things continued to happen as recently as December 1995 when I went to visit her.

What a void there will be now! Where will the laughter be?

How are the siblings getting along with each other these days? Are the families still cohesive or have they started drifting apart?

How is Sundari, who has become so close to amma, coping? After all, they used to spend the whole day together. I have never seen a daughter-in-law and mother-in-law relationship of this kind. amma used to say, "She is my mother-in-law!" whenever Sundari demanded that my mother do certain things. Like take it easy, or eat a little bit of the sweet, ...

How are the sisters-in-law getting along with each other? Will I be able to connect with them at all? Will my nephews and nieces be morose? Will they be as jovial as before, picking fights with me, poking fun at me, standing ready to run the slightest errand I might want from them?

A myriad questions as the flight descended towards Bangalore's H.A.L. airport around 2:45 a.m.

The anxiety!

Finally, I walked out to see three of my brothers waiting there. I had dreaded this moment. Will I break down? Will they break down?

They shouted. "Oi, SHEKHAR!" Hands shook all around. Inquiries abounded all around. We got into the Maruti van and headed home, chatting as if this was just another visit and nothing really had changed.

We reached home, Sundari came to me and with just the slightest tears in her eyes, hugged me. It was a friend and a brother hugging. No, it was not that same hug that amma could have given me. It is unreasonable to expect that that can be replicated or replaced. This hug did not reduce me to an essential being. But, it comforted.

I was welcome.

At that moment there were no tears. I went in, sat on the sofa across from the divan and stared at it for a few moments. Looked into the dining room. The whole house seemed empty.

How would I ever find a place in this empty house?

Especially when i had never lost it in the first place.

[continued ...]

I told Ramani (brother #2, husband of Sundari) to come home a couple of hours early on Wednesday. I had only arrived on Saturday. I told him and Sundari that I had something important I wanted to talk to them about.

We started talking. Several weeks before I went home, I had told them both about some research and writing opportunities which I had got. They vaguely knew that it was something to do with gay men. They also remembered that when I had visited last year (1995), I had met with the gay men's group "Good As You" (G.A.Y.) in Bangalore.

I listed out the various reasons I was seeking opportunities for such work and now, having found a few, was pursuing them. The academic and other reasons were dispensed with.

"But, there is also another important reason for my wanting to do these things. I have known, since I was a little boy of 9, that I too am gay ..."

Registered: surprise, but controlled expression on face.

" ... These projects are as much for me to understand who i am and what my own world is like, for myself and for a lot of others who are my kith in this."

"Oh."

So, I told them, when I come back to India for my research work on gay issues, I am planning to make home my home base (!) and if they are uncomfortable with my staying with them while working on these topics, they should please let me know honestly so I can make alternate arrangements.

They were offended. How could I even _think_ that I would not be welcome there? Nothing to it. I would definitely be staying there, no more discussion on that point.

If either has any questions at all, I told them, they should freely ask them. No questions are taboo, but I will reserve the right to answering them, but if I choose to answer them, I will do so as honestly as possible.

Fast forward to a few days ...

Next was a talk with #4, Gagi. We went to a pub. Bangalore has a few pubs, you see. So, over a drink, using several well-chosen words (he says humbly), I told him. He had one question: "Why do you think you need any confirmation from us?" Touche! I assured him that confirmation was not my issue, lowering of barriers and the sharing of knowledge of who I am were, you see?

He saw.

"So, next time someone comes along and gives you a jAtakam (horoscope) for a potential bride, just ask them, 'Nice horoscope. Does she have a brother?'"

We had a good laff at that one.

#3, Prakash, had several questions, following re-affirmation that I should never doubt the love my family has for me. Did my orientation have anything to do with my wanting to the emigrate to the U.S.? Yes. He sticks his hand out, "Put it there." We shook hands. He congratulates me: "Good for you." He expresses pride and satisfaction that not only did I deal with so many difficult things alone (he is not to be dissuaded from this by my repeated clarification that I had a LOT of help on the way; the battles were still mine), but now trying to do something constructive with it to not only help my own journey but potentially to help others understand something of my world.

In many ways, when I knocked on the door and it opened, I found that I _had_ been knocking from the inside.

No more coming out to people. I let them in. One room at a time.

This is no longer a closet. It is a benevolent home. It is, if I can keep working at it, potentially a mansion of love.

It is the center.

-- chandra.